Robert Rorabeck

In Your Auburn Hair - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

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A blasphemy upon the walls of a religiousBathroom: This is what it is, and scarred with dyslexia—Devils hanging upside down.They are who stole all of your mother's jewelriesWhile she was kissing her new bo—justOn the outskirts of town—And when I saw you in the classroom, Like upon the far banks of an entirely innocentRiver- In unkempt séances these were born—Pets, lactates—and staples of every kindOf luscious meat—following you through the hallwayAs airplanes circled in the sky—And sometimes you would look up orFall to your knees in pieta—as a yellow butterfly Presses like a barrette in your auburn hair—‘But it was only to show your appreciationFor the heavens' cerulean discharges—And then you went on your way back home, Or to grandmother's house—And back into the world where you could notBe appreciated by me.